


The Birthday

by KestrelShrike



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Council, F/M, Fluff, implied naughtiness, kiss, prompted, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: I don't always post my shorter, prompted requests up here, but every now and then I write one I'm very pleased with. This was a request for a drunken kiss and a 'hope we don't get caught' kiss, so I decided to combine them in with an imagined celebration for Garrus' birthday.I'm looking for more Shakarian prompts! Post them here or send them to me at kestrelsansjesses.tumblr.com





	The Birthday

“You know, Shepard, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” It was that time of night when things had finally wound down, the party thrown for Garrus’s birthday over, everyone either passed out in adjacent rooms or struggling to walk home, too drunk to see straight. Shepard lay sprawled on the couch, head in Garrus’ lap as he played with her hair, running it through her fingers. Both were pleasantly soused, not ready to go to bed but limbs too heavy to do much else. 

Eyes half-closed, Shepard made a small grunt of pleasure at the sensation of fingers along her scalp. “What’s that?” Hell, she could indulge him today. “If it’s another shooting contest, I just want you to know that I’ll win this time.” If she could even hold a gun steady; it really could go either way right about now. 

“You know that big podium the council sits at?” Garrus wriggled out from beneath her, leaving Shepard’s head to rest on the considerably softer cushions. Not a bad trade-off, but she was going to fall asleep if she didn’t try to right herself, sitting upright in a staggered movement that left her half-leaning over the arm of the couch, watching Garrus pace the room in increased excitement, a lazy smile spreading across her features. 

“The one they look down on us from? Yah, I know it.” Her hand reached for more to drink, but they’d run out a while ago, and she was too tired or too lazy to get up and find something at the bar. 

Standing before the fire place, Garrus spread his arms wide. “Let’s go there. I have an idea.” He was already trying to pull Shepard upright, both of them laughing when her legs refused to cooperate. 

“Right now? Sure, why not.” No one would be around at this hour; any guards patrolling could easily be convinced to turn their head the other way for Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, heroes of the Citadel, and the autocab shuttle they took over wasn’t about to ask any questions. 

They spilled out of it like a couple of drunk teenagers, trying to stifle each other’s laughter and failing utterly. A single door lay between them and their goal; Garrus bent over it for a moment, and it whooshed open softly. “Never bothered to change the codes since I was in CSEC,” he said with a noise of satisfaction. 

In the dimmed lights of Citadel night, the room was cavernous and eerie, even more so than usual. There weren’t even any Keepers around; Garrus and Shepard were truly alone, following each other in increasingly dramatic, sneaking steps whose effect was ruined utterly by the giggling. Starlight trickled in from the windows behind the Council’s row of seats, dramatic pinpricks that stippled plants and floor alike, spreading across Shepard’s skin and Garrus’ carapace in a diffuse pattern. 

Much of it was ruined by the slightly spinning world, the haze of alcohol softening edges and adding unreality to the scene, a heavy overlay that Shepard had no desire to clear. Her head was in a good place right now; when was the last time she was allowed to sit down and just celebrate something like a normal person? Garrus deserved everything for his birthday, so if he wanted to break into the damn Council, they would. 

“Now what?” They were here, and… It wasn’t the most exciting, actually, once the thrill of the illicit wore off. She’d broken into better places than this. 

Not answering, Garrus gently tugged her arm, pulling Shepard up to the podium and standing there with her. A single shaft of light, a reflection off solar panels or some other metallic piece of the station, bathed them both in a cool glow, a silver aura that she was just drunk enough to find romantic, rather than corny bullshit. Well, it still was corny bullshit, but she felt entitled to it every once in a while. 

“You ever have vids running through your head of desecrating this place? You know what I mean.” Garrus could pitch even his rumbly turian voice to a lower octave, suggestion stopping just short of obviously leering. 

Shepard couldn’t resist the invitation, or how endearingly awkward Garrus was whenever he suggested something remotely inappropriate, his reference point always falling back to vids. “Can’t say that I have, Garrus, but now I do.” What better way to say ‘screw you’ to the Council? Not that they’d ever see- if they had cams here, Shepard could get it all deleted by tomorrow morning, before anyone even saw. Or she could save them for their own private use. Either way. Raising an eyebrow at Garrus, she gestured to him- make your next move, cowboy. 

With a distinctly drunken saunter, Garrus took a few steps to Shepard and then pulled her closer. They didn’t kiss often, both because they weren’t people prone to PDA and because their anatomies weren’t always complimentary, but when they did, sparks flew (metaphorically, unless Shepard had any metal near her face, and then it could possibly be literally.) Being drunk didn’t actually improve things much, except to make them both more into it, wandering hands and all, an exchange of tongues, blue on pink, that was probably faintly off putting if anyone had been watching. Luckily, they were safe in that regard. 

Breaking for air, and to feel another rush of residual alcohol, they leaned together for a moment, Garrus guiding Shepard over to the long desk the Council sat behind, helping her perch on the edge. “Good birthday?” she murmured. 

“Best in the whole damn Citadel.”


End file.
